


The Phone Call

by katvara, ShindoW



Series: Digimon V! [4]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, M/M, Nightmares, One-Sided Relationship, Post-Canon, Pre-Epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:37:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katvara/pseuds/katvara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShindoW/pseuds/ShindoW
Summary: Jou calls Yamato in the middle of the night, just wanting to hear the voice of an old friend again. Sorato. Hints of Joumato.





	The Phone Call

**The Phone Call**

 

Summary: Jou calls Yamato in the middle of the night, just wanting to hear the voice of an old friend again. Sorato. Hints of Joumato.

 

A/N: Originally posted on ff net in December 2014. Another headcanon based drabble (this one inspired by 'Lips of an Angel') (I really need to get out of this Pandora addiction, it's leading to too many drabbles!). Jou and Yamato find the only half-cure for their insomnia is hearing each other's voices. Sorato. Hints of Joumato.

 

* * *

The blond rolled over in his sleep. His fingertips tingled as they graced the carpet. He didn't wake until his face hit the floor. He awoke to darkness and the dim light from the balcony of his apartment. Yamato shoved the coffee table a few inches, careful not to wake his wife and children. He balanced on his arms and looked for the source of what woke him. Usually nothing pulled him from the night terrors he had since he was six years old.

His phone buzzed. Yamato looked to the coffee table. The bright screen lit up a beacon in the center of the living room. Yamato couldn't read the caller ID through the blinding light. He blinked as his eyes adjusted and looked at the time on the clock above the mantle: just past one. “Hello...?” Yamato mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes.

“Yamato...?”

“Jou...?” the blond breathed. Was it suprise or excitement? Jou never called him, even if they had somewhat rekindled their broken relationship over the last few months... The exchanging of the numbers had been a courtesy more than anything. Yamato sat up and let his back hit the lower part of the couch. “Why are you calling here so late?”

“I...” Jou began. The reciever shifted in his hands.

“Jou, is everything okay?” Yamato whispered. The light at the end of the hall came on. He craned his neck back towards the long stretch of darkness. If Sora knew he was on the phone this late, much less with someone they actually knew, they would be up fighting about it all night.

_“Your attention should be here, with us.”_

Yamato sighed relief as the hall went completely dark again.

“N-No, I just wanted to talk.”

Yamato reached for and lit the half used cigarette balancing in the ashtray. The burnt taste reminded him that Jou called to talk and wasn't. He knew his friend; there was something wrong. The man wouldn't call this late unless something was bothering him. A rattle to the other's voice was just further confirmation.

“Usually I'm the one calling you this late about some bullshit,” Yamato laughed, breathing out the smoke. He _had_ promised not to in the house, but that long since went out the window, to Sora's annoyance. The blond felt some relaxation wash over him as the smoke left his lungs and he waited for his friend on the other end of the line to get to the point. He reflected on the times when they were children and Yamato found himself clutching his phone and begging for Jou to sneak out.

“Yeah, I just needed someone to talk to.”

“About?”

“Nothing... just to talk,” Jou whispered. “May as well ask... nightmares again? I had to call a few times before you would pick up.”

Yamato knew it would come up. “Yeah. They're getting bloody violent now.” The blond laughed a little in his half awake state. “You sound like you had a bad dream, too...?” That was very unusual. Yamato last knew that Jou wasn't much of a dreamer and slept like a stone.

Jou gave a light chuckle.  _Something like that..._ The man's vision was as blurry as his half awake counterpart's, lenses sitting idle on the table. He was smiling, just hearing his heart's desire's voice made everything so much better. Jou looked to his front door. The deadbolt was shut. The chain lock was on. The security system was active. “I'm living one, sometimes,” he admitted. 

Yamato coughed on the other end. The fit lasted awhile and Jou knew the other had smoked excessively recently. Yamato had a gravely feedback in his voice that made Jou shiver.

“I know exactly what you mean. Takeru and I stopped talking recently...”

“Again?” Jou gave a light laugh. “What did you do now?”

“ _She_ 's in the hospital. Takeru wants me to go see her. I can't. You know I can't.”

“I know.”

“I can't,” the blond made a near-gagging noise, begging for Jou to believe him in his younger brother's place.

Jou cringed. The blond's tone was so shallow. He was dead serious as he said those words. Jou reflected on the fact that he was hiding his own shame and nearly cried when he remembered that there was no way they would allow one another to know each other's pain... they buried the fact something more was between them long ago, each not blissfully aware of the other's feelings, except for a few fleeting moments _that_ summer.

“Bad day?” Jou shrugged.

“All I did was fucking...” Yamato trailed off. _Fight. With her. In front of them. Again. I let my temper get the best of me. I'm pathetic. You would just tell me to relax, right?_ Jou could just imagine the blond sitting across from him, eyes distant, wanting to say more.

“Sounds like a fun day to me,” Jou joked, only hearing the other's voice and not his thoughts. Niether would push the other too much, considering the only thing stronger than their self-loathing was their mutual respect.

“Fuck you,” Yamato laughed, then coughed again.

“You were going to quit, weren't you?”

“I did. For six months... but...” Yamato's tone indicated he didn't give a damn. Jou rolled his eyes: it was so like him.

“How are the kids?” Jou asked.

“I wouldn't know,” the blond hissed. “I feel like I never see them even though we live under the same roof.”

“...w-why?” Jou whispered.

“I guess I'm just at work all the time...” Yamato sighed and then: laughed, thinking of his father. “Fuck, I don't wanna be around anyone anyway...” _All I do is... get told I'm doing everything wrong. Like this phone call. I should have told you to go back to sleep, I should have told you I need rest, but you know that. Something must really be bothering you. God, I wish you would tell me. I can't stand to hear that crack in your voice..._

“Me either. The last thing I want to do is see anyone,” Jou breathed, pulling the covers around him. His mind and sight drifted to the wall behind him and his son who was sleeping in the room on the other side of that wall. Jou reached out from under the covers for the nearby umbrella; his only line of defense. _Please, don't come back here. Just stay away. Please, don't hurt Aiko..._

“You're worried about something. Care to spill?” Yamato urged. He didn't want to give in like he always did and admit to Jou that his marriage was falling apart, so he directed the conversation away from himself. What little he had held onto all these years was becoming impossible to grasp. Yamato pictured the gun sitting in top of the bedroom closet and fought tears back.

“I just had a really bad date.” Not a complete lie, Jou figured. Then he made a loud squeak as his phone began to explode with texts in his hand. He quickly turned the vibration off and tried to regain his sanity once more. “Yamato...”

“What's going on? Someone call? I can hang up. It's probably more important.”

“Don't talk like that...” Jou whispered. “It's no one.”

“...oh, so my identical twin is calling.”

“Stop saying you're nothing, Yamato. I hate when you act angsty just because you don't want to talk about what's really bothering you, yet you want the comfort.”

“Didn't realize shrinks made night calls,” the blond spat, finishing the cigarette. “Besides, _you_ called me. You're the one with the problem, not me.”

“Stop. Please. I called... I...just...” Jou huddled into himself and held back all urges to cry. He couldn't let Yamato hear the pain in his voice, the fear in his words. The blond would rush right over, demanding to obliterate the source of the man's pain. Jou recalled when Yamato had finally met Sho and left Jou's father with a broken nose and a fractured wrist. Jou couldn't help but smile, despite that being the first time the two friends stopped talking. Jou was left with a broken elbow then, after all. Yamato always did anything for those he loved, even if the result wasn't perfect.

A shame Jou didn't realize this extended to the blond's marriage as well. The sole reason Yamato was trapped... doing things for everyone else; never for himself.

“Jou?”

“Could you just tell me something?” Jou urged, aching to hear something real, not some scripted lie. _Like you..._ he thought, listening to the pipes settle.

“Eh? What?” Yamato questioned. Silence answered him. “Jou?”

“Everything's going to be okay, right?”

Yamato thought a moment. He wasn't the type to give false hope. Just as he was going to answer, Sora swayed into the hallway entrance, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Despite their misery, at least the girl held some beauty in her form through her transparent red nightgown.

“Yamato, you're out here again? Come back to bed.”

The blond cringed at the thought and tried to shake bad memories, bad dreams from his mind. “S-Sora, I'll come back to bed in a second.”

“I have to do this every night, it seems. You're always out here on the couch. It can't be comfortable for you.” Jou listened on the other end of the line as Sora hesitated in the background. “Don't you like sleeping near someone you love?”

Yamato didn't answer and made an uncomfortable noise only Jou could hear. At this, the late night caller grew worried, “Yamato?”

“Hmm? Did someone call you?” Sora questioned, hearing remnants of a voice fizzling into the air.

“No. Just a wrong number woke me up,” Yamato chuckled. “Good thing, right? I mean, I should get back to bed and all...”

Jou's voice shuddered. The line went dead. He tossed the phone across the floor and sobbed into his knees, letting his hands fall loosely over his head.

Even in the dark, Yamato could see his wife's suspicious expression. “Come back to bed,” she demanded, realizing the sarcasm in her husband's statement.

“Not right now.”

Sora huffed as if she had expected such an answer. Yamato thought he heard her mumble _sicko_ as she turned back down the hall. “Goodnight, Yamato,” she sighed, her steps heavy as she left.

“Goodnight, Sora...” the husband whispered, “I'm sorry... I can't tell you...”

“Brush your teeth if you're coming back to bed,” she snapped from the end of the hall, breaking off his self-apology. “I can't stand that smell all over you.”

Yamato climbed back into the comfort of the couch and punched the pillow.

She critisized, he laughed it off. The couple were dancing again while waiting for the train wreck of their marriage to burn. Yamato noticed he was still clutching the phone in his hands when his grip began to crack the plastic.

His mother's voice rang in his mind, telling him in her own twisted way how everything would be fine, and he kept telling himself to stop. Stop reminding himself, stop thinking about her, about then. Then, he could suddenly feel the blood under his nails and the heat of his hate building up, like that night. He let out a frustrated cry as he tossed the ashtray from the table. The glass shattered on the floor. He stared at the ashes on the carpet as he caught his breath. After having held it so long, he further held back sobs that died to get out. He couldn't let his family see his pain, especially Sora, who was depending on him...

Jou kept reminding himself he had to be strong. If his son, Aiko, saw how scared he was, the boy would surely fret. Still, Jou took a page from his true love's playbook and huddled into the couch, unable to leave his guard post, unable to sleep. All those days of keeping the late watch in the Digital World as a kid were paying off now.

A flurry of knocks on his door made him cringe and he fumbled across the floor, the blanket tangling in his legs as he tried to regather his phone.

“Open the door. You don't want to see me?!”

“Leave!” Jou wailed. “I'll call the cops!” He huddled into the side of the furniture, wishing Yamato was there to protect him like he had so many times before. Jou tried to think of better times, like falling from Shellmon's blast and being held in the boy's arms... he began to whisper to himself one of Yamato's songs, one Jou had always suspected the blond had written about him in those days, and suddenly things looked like they would get better. The rapping stopped and the sun began to rise and Jou would eventually forget the phone call altogether... More pressing matters rose to the forefront of his life... but he would never forget the small comfort he took in hearing his friend's voice.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
